


The Mercenary

by Makkoska



Category: Naruto
Genre: First Time, Kakuzu's young years, M/M, Yaoi, pre-Hashirama-Madara clash, wandering in the wild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-18
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-11-29 17:34:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/689616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makkoska/pseuds/Makkoska
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kakuzu, after he left his village lives as a head-hunter, a mercenary.  When he seeks out the most dangerous shinobi of the time he’s in for a life-changing experience. Yaoi, Kakuzu/Madara</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This grew longer than expected, but it wasn’t actually easy to write this pairing in a plausible way…  
> well I do hope it will be plausible not only for me :)
> 
> Warning: Mostly for yaoi and unbetad text.

 

It takes him weeks to find the smallest of clue but he doesn’t give up. He already decided that he’ll find the man, take what it takes and anyway - it’s not as if he’s anything better to do. So he searches and investigates, goes after even the most improbable rumours, just to find that when it comes to Uchiha Madara, the unlikeliest will provide the best result.  
  
Still it’s not easy, remaining on the right track. Many claim that he’s dead, killed by -depending on who’s telling the story- Senju Hashirama, his own clan, any random shooting-star ninja, his own brother (who is in fact long dead), the _ghost_ of his brother or that he’d a fatal illness or committed suicide.  
  
Kakuzu listens to these rumours as well, and hopes they will turn out to be the rubbish they seem to be.   
  
He doesn’t have any particular reason to find this legendary shinobi. The decision was made on a whim, or rather yet, out of boredom. That is something he keeps struggling with, ever since his violent departure from Takigakure.  
  
As a loyal ninja to his village, he used to have a strict, organised life. Going to missions he was sent to, killing people he was ordered to defeat... he was ready at every day from the break of dawn until he was released from duty to have a short rest. This vast amount of time he now has on his hands is quite a change to that. Not as much as the transformation of his body, but still substantial.  
  
He enjoyed it at first, all these changes, his new power just as much as the free-time. Yet it’s taken him less than three years to get bored. He also feels rather lonely, something he hasn’t been expecting, as he assumed that he was finished with once and for all with other people. Some things just doesn’t change that easily it seems, even for someone like Kakuzu, who sacrificed his own humanity for revenge and power.  
  
So he came up with the idea to find someone like himself. A runaway, a traitor if you asked the village, a survivor, an avenger in Kakuzu’s opinion. It’s the same drive what will, more than half a century later, make him join the Akatsuki. Solitude is something he welcomes but he doesn’t care for loneliness.   
  
With that thought born, he decides to search for Madara. He is, after all, the most famous, or notorious of their kind. That finding the man proves to be almost impossible doesn’t bother him at all. At least he’s something to do while it lasts.   
  
He carries out a thorough investigation still - if he decides to do something, he’ll do it scrupulously. In the end however it’s more luck than the intelligence gathered that helps him to find him.  
  
It’s a warm summer night, the type when darkness falls only in the late hours and even after it, the stars and the moon give Kakuzu enough light to wander the narrow path of the forest he’s crossing. One of the unexpected benefits of the kinjutsu is his improved eyesight. He doesn’t require much sleep - he always had quite the stamina, but nowadays he can be up on his feet whole day with only a few hours rest.  
  
When he sees the flames of a fire blinking far in the woods he turns toward it without a second thought. It’s not because he believes in fate or any other rubbish like that. No, he’s been following a clue that is, if not hot, but at least warm compared to the previous ones he went after. So there’s a possibility, however slight, that this will provide something further to work with.  
  
He draws closer slowly, silently. He watches from a branch, hidden behind the thick canopy the slim figure who appears to be sleeping, dimly illuminated by the dancing flames. Only a fool would be so careless - to fall asleep in the wild, alone, and even next to a fire that brings anyone close to it. Most of the people passing through at night the forest aren’t someone a lone traveller would wish to meet. Kakuzu killed such fools before, just for the money they carried with them, when he was in dire need. He doesn’t feel above such a deed now, but the man doesn’t look wealthy enough to worth the bother.  
  
The ex-Takigakure ninja can’t make out much of his appearance - a not particularly tall or powerfully-built man, lying with his head propped up on his backpack, dressed in well-worn trousers and a long, loose shirt. His armour is next to him on the ground. The handle of some weapon is peeking out from under it. Very nonchalant - it’s not a position from where it could be drawn with ease. Kakuzu cannot see the sleeping figure’s face, as it’s obscured by the shadows of his long, thick hair.   
  
He’s not someone who makes a rash decision, so he keeps watching motionless for long minutes. The man on the ground doesn’t make any sign that he’d feel his presence, his breathing remaining deep and slow, his form relaxed. Fast asleep by all appearances.  
  
Only a fool would be so careless - or someone powerful enough not to have anything to fear. Kakuzu closes his eyes and concentrates. A wave of overpowering chakra hits him so unexpectedly that he almost loses his balance. He only ever felt something like this once before, and he was smashed down that time, his resistance broken like he was just a kid waving a fake shuriken, not an elite warrior of his village. He’d stood no more chance against this man, he’s suddenly sure, that he did against Hashirama Senju years ago, although he got immeasurably stronger since.   
  
It’s not too late to go back where he came from. This is much more risky than what he’s prepared for and he didn’t survive what he did, to throw his life away now for nothing. Still, he’s gone out of his way to find this shinobi... no, he won’t run away now, with his tail between his legs.  
  
He climbs down and, making sure to make enough noise, steps out to the clearing. Still, the man lying on the ground continues to pretend to be asleep. Kakuzu clears his throat.  
  
“Uchiha Madara? I’ve been looking for you.”  
  
He turns his head at that slightly, a thick lock of dark hair falling away from his face with the movement, revealing a sliver of a pale face, sharp chin and deep, deadly cold eyes.  
  
“So you found me. What you’re waiting for? You won’t get a better chance to attack.”  
  
“I didn’t come to fight.” Kakuzu’s mouth twitch upwards under his mask. It’s not really a smile, more like a grim sign of satisfaction at a job well done, that his time spent on the search wasn’t in vain.  
  
“Everyone comes to me for a fight,” Madara says. He watches Kakuzu, but doesn’t show any sign that he’s about to get up. “Oh yes, there are those idiots who want me to teach them. Both types end up dead quickly.”  
  
“I don’t want to learn anything from you either.” It’s a gamble - one, where the stake is his life - but he steps closer and sits down next to the fire. Madara’s head rises just slightly and one of his eyebrows climbs high on his forehead. As far as Kakuzu can tell, he looks amused, not angry.  
  
“By all means, make yourself at home,” still, the threat is unmistakable in his voice. It takes considerable willpower to remain calm and not to put up his defence, but Kakuzu manages. Those unfathomable dark eyes search his form, though he can’t see any real curiosity on the pale face of the Uchiha. It’s not that he reveals much of himself - ever since his violent departure from his village, Kakuzu wears a heavy jacket and a mask, to cover the inhuman features of his body and face. He let his hair grew long, and the way it drops over his back hides the slight hunch that the masks cause. Like this it’s only his eyes – the white coloured to deep red, and the vibrant green of his iris that doesn’t have pupils any more - that show that he’s not an ordinary ninja.   
  
He can’t tell what Madara thinks. He’s not getting rid of him yet, which can either mean that he piqued his curiosity or that he doesn’t think him worth the bother. Finally he pushes himself up on his elbows then sits. He yawns and stretches, making a show of closing his eyes in the meantime. Even if Kakuzu came to fight him, he wouldn’t be so stupid to try to attack now.  
  
By the flickering light of the campfire the Uchiha looks young, younger than him, although in fact he must be his senior by years if not a decade. It’s his slender form, or his smooth face. Maybe it’s that thick and long hair that hides so much of him. It’d be easy to be fooled by his appearance. His arch enemy, the Senju, didn’t look really dangerous either. Kakuzu learned his lesson then. He needs to be very cautious with this man.  
  
He lets Madara make the next step. Instinctively he knows that he has to let him dictate the pace. One step off the path and he’ll be dead. Though Kakuzu might surprise him - he doesn’t think that even the Uchiha met anyone else who has to be killed five times to die. But he’d rather not try his luck.  
  
“Don’t you think it’d be polite to introduce yourself?”  
  
“Kakuzu,” he bows his head slightly.  
  
“Just Kakuzu?”

  
“Yes,” it’s not the name he’s been born with, but he left that behind, along with the rest of his old life when he fled Takigakure. He rarely ever spares it a thought any longer. In a few years he won’t think about himself differently.

  
“Tell me then _just_ Kakuzu, who are you?”  
  
“A mercenary,” he’s been that for last, before he started this search for Madara, so it’s truth enough.  
  
“A mercenary?” the other man grins, but there’s hardly any mirth in the gesture. “So you came to offer your services to me? If so, you’re barking up the wrong tree. I hardly need help from someone like you.”  
  
“I’m not necessarily here for that,” Kakuzu shakes his head, few of his own long locks falling in front of his eyes, though it’s hardly anything like the curtain of black hair that shadows Madara’s face. “Though if you pay me, I’m not refusing any job,” he sees the irritation on the other’s face.  Careful now, he thinks. “I actually might have some information you’d like.”  
  
“On what?” Madara stands up and unobtrusively Kakuzu pulls his legs under himself, ready to spring up at the first sign of attack.  
  
“On Senju Hashirama. He’s the one you’re interested in, isn’t he?”  
  
“Oh? You think you know anything about Hashirama that I don’t?” He steps up close and crouches down in front of Kakuzu, ignoring his personal space completely. The flames cast deep shadows on his face, making him look dangerous. Or probably it’s his chakra that the masked man can feel on the back of his tongue, on his skin, heavy and threatening. Still, he refuses to lean back, away from this man. Rather he forces himself to sit still, his pulse to remain slow as he returns the gaze. Madara’s eyes are still black, not red with the awakened Sharingan, which he takes as a promising sign.   
  
“I fought him once, a few years ago,” he’s not sure if the Uchiha left the village that time or not, and berates himself for not doing his research carefully enough. But he wasn’t quite prepared for this - a dangerous power so tangible he can all but grab it with his hands. It distracts him, especially as Madara is so close. It makes his normally quick and organized thoughts jumbled.  
  
“And you survived?” There, just the slightest flash of curiosity appears on the pale face. “Do you expect me to pay for your information?”  
  
Kakuzu heard enough about the eye-technique of the Uchihas - and this Uchiha’s in particular - to know that he could pry what he wants out of him by force. Although genjutsus doesn’t have the same effect on him as they used to have, his five hearts enabling him to break out of the usual kind with ease, he’s not about to try against Madara.  
  
“I’m willing to share for free. I haven’t come this long for money, though as I said, I never refuse it.”  
  
“So what do you want, Kakuzu? Me to beat down Senju where you failed?”

“I’ve nothing particular against the Hokage,” he notices how Madara’s eyes narrow momentarily at hearing that title. He doesn’t say anything at the lack of honorifics - he’s not sensitive at all how people call him, and really, it’s not even his real name.

  
“I’ve now a handful of reasons why you _didn’t_ come for...”  
  
“Tell me, Madara-sama,” Kakuzu is not a fool to try the same informality “are you heading to any particular place, or doing anything of importance? If not, I could keep you company for a short while.”  
  
“Company?” the Uchiha barks a short, joyless laugh. “That I need even less than a mercenary or an apprentice. _Tell me,”_ his voice deepens with his command “what are you trying to achieve?” His hand shots out to grab the younger man by the nape and draw him so close that their foreheads almost touch. Something shifts in his eyes and they are now red as blood. The next instant Kakuzu is in his genjutsu, standing on a vast barren land that’s almost as crimson as the Sharingan. He doesn’t stop to wait to see what happens next. His hearts beat out of synch for once, five thumps rapidly after each other, the monsters belonging to them shifting in his body and he’s back on the small clearing.  
  
Madara blinks at him in surprise. If Kakuzu stands any chance with an attack - or at least to flee - it’s now. Still, he only clasps Madara’s hand and pulls it away from his neck.   
  
“So there’s more to you than meets the eye. But I’m not interested in company. Tomorrow you’ll tell me your fight with Senju and disappear. If after that I’ll ever see you again, I’ll kill you without a second thought.”  
  
“As you wish, Madara-sama.”  
  
The Uchiha stands up and goes back to his previous spot by the fire and Kakuzu releases a breath he’s been holding.  
  
  
*/*/*  
  
  
Kakuzu remains sitting up whole night, and doesn’t sleep more than a few minutes here and there. Madara is watching him, he knows, even if his eyes are closed and his breathing is deep as if asleep. He didn’t fall for that trick first, and not about to this second time. At the crack of dawn the Uchiha gets up, stretches like a cat and puts on his armour. He also rakes his fingers through his hair, but it just becomes even more unruly with the gesture. He doesn’t spare Kakuzu a glance during all these, nor when he walks away without a word. The masked shinobi follows him.  
  
Neither of them says anything for hours. Madara pretends he’s not there, just a few steps behind him. Kakuzu is willing to pay that game. He didn’t used to be, but now he’s a patient man. He learned when his own people imprisoned and ridiculed him for failing to kill Senju Hashirama that sometimes only time will bring what he wants. Like the chance to break out and massacre the ungrateful bastards back then.  
  
He takes a cautious step back when Madara finally loses his patience and spins around to face him. He looks different dressed up in his armour, more obviously deadly, not so slim and young. He lost his fake innocence in the daylight.   
  
“Are you planning to follow me like a stray dog whole day?!” he snaps. Kakuzu shrugs.  
  
“I’d rather walk next to you.”  
  
“Than do that, for fuck’s sake!”  
  
Now and then he glances at Madara after this, sometimes meeting his gaze. The black-haired man is a good five inches shorter than him, probably even more without that thick mane that stands in every direction, and even with his armour on he must weigh less than Kakuzu naked. His pose, his springy steps tells of his power however. He doesn’t bother to hide it like the ex-Takigakure nin, under plain clothes and closed-up behaviour. He’s unlike anyone else the younger man met before and he’s intrigued by this strange, dangerous shinobi.   
  
“You’re not a very talkative guy, are you?” Madara asks after a while. When Kakuzu agrees with a grunt only, he turns his head towards him and raises an eyebrow. “You’ve got your mouth sewn together under that mask, or what?”  
  
He can’t help but snort at that, amused.  
  
“Something like that,” he agrees.   
  
“Still you claim you want to keep me company.”  
  
“What would you have me talking about, Madara-sama?”  
  
“Hashirama of course! Or at least the real reason why you seek me out. Your real name - or why you hide yourself. In my book a masked man is a coward.”  
  
“I gave you my reason,” he says slowly, avoiding the first topic. He’s got a strong suspicion that he won’t be able to say anything about Senju what Madara doesn’t already know. “It’s up to you whether you believe it or not. Kakuzu is as good name as any else I could give to you. As for my mask - I have my reasons.”  
  
“I’m sure you have,” Madara smiles and attacks the next instant. The kick comes so quickly that he doesn’t have time to harden his skin against it. The movement is heavily woven through with chakra and is so forceful that when it lands on Kakuzu’s stomach it not only forces all breath out of his lungs but also sends him flying backwards. He hits a tree and the shorter man is on him already, before he could gather his wits about him, pressing a short sword against his throat. Reaching up he rips the cloth mask from Kakuzu’s face and laughs when he sees the stitches.  
  
“So it _is_ sewn together! Tell me, my friend - will I discover more secrets if I uncover you somewhere else? Like how you resisted my genjutsu last night?” He has to stand on his tiptoes to press his forearm down on Kakuzu’s windpipe. The blade moves down on his chest, close to his hearts. If he tries to cut him there, the stitched man will fight him, even if he knows that probably it’ll cost him his life. He’ll never again let someone do as they want with him. He’s not the weakling he once was, who left himself be used and then cast away by his village.   
  
“If I go with you, you’ll have the chance to discover more,” his voice is hoarse with the impact of the tree and with the threat of the sharp sword. He can’t tell if Madara will try to stab him and the uncertainty is maddening. He struggles to stay calm, not to let fear or rage take him over.   
  
“I’m not a patient man _Kakuzu_ , so why shouldn’t I just get everything I care to know now? And I’ve never said you can come with me.” Still, he steps back and watches as the younger shinobi picks up his torn mask.   
  
The ex-Takigakure ninja doesn’t glance up to him -that would feel like as if he’s putting up a show- when he extends a thin thread from the gash above his wrist and patches up the cloth quickly. When he’s sure it’ll hold, he hides his face behind it again.   
  
The Uchiha is looking at him, but he can’t read his expression. He returns the dark glaze evenly. When the black-haired man turns to advance on the road again, Kakuzu quickly catches up to walk next to him.  
  
*/*/*  
  
Madara keeps walking whole day, only stopping for a short break to refill his gourd with fresh water when they cross a spring. If he puts up the fast pace to test Kakuzu’s stamina, he’s in for a ride - he might be way more powerful than the younger shinobi, but he doesn’t have five hearts pumping blood, nor inhuman threads woven through his muscles.   
  
Kakuzu doesn’t ask where they’re heading, if anywhere in particular. It’s all the same for him. He doesn’t have a home after all, and at any town he goes someone will be in need of a trained ninja to fight, to kill and willing to pay for his services.  
  
When Madara asks, he tells shortly about himself. Not about his strange features, which he suspects the other is interested in, just where he’s from, that he left the village, that he was an avenger and now a freelancer.   
  
“Shinobi villages,” Madara says with concept “the whole idea is ridiculous. Even where the blood draws them together, they will fight. If there’s not even that connection - it just bounds to end badly.”  
  
“Still, you were there, to found Konoha,” Kakuzu points out. Black eyes flash angrily at him.  
  
“It was a mistake. My clan -the ungrateful bastards- wanted peace. So I did what they asked, but I’ve never received any thanks.”  
  
“There’s no gratitude in the world of shinobi,” the taller man agrees.   
  
“Gratitude, alliance, remission - if you hear those from someone, you can know they’re hypocrites.”  
  
“I know that now,” he nods. He understands this sentiment deeply.   
  
“Tell me, Kakuzu - how you fell from grace?”  
  
“I was sent to kill _your Hokage_ and was punished when I failed.”  
  
“He’s not my Hokage!” Madara snaps, angrier than expected at the sarcastic comment. “He’s not my anything!” He exhales slowly, trying to get rid of his fury. Kakuzu keeps his face blank, but stores this in his mind as valuable information. “Anyhow, he’s not someone who can be killed by the likes of you, even if you have your little secrets.”  
  
“And I didn’t even have my secrets then,” he’s not affronted -after all that’s the truth.  
  
“Then you’re a fool to try.”  
  
“A naive fool,” Kakuzu agrees “who believed in his village then. Believed in the elders who sent me on the mission. I’ve paid for my stupidity, but they paid as well...” he smirks for himself, under his patched mask. The memory never fails to fill him with dark satisfaction. Three of the hearts beating in his chest were taken from the leaders of Hidden Waterfall. The elders serve _him_ now, in their death.   
  
“So you had your revenge already, I gather?” Madara asks and he nods. “So you didn’t come to me for help in that.”  
  
“No, that was _my_ revenge. You’re not getting an army against Konoha after all, do you? You want to settle the score yourself. I wouldn’t have asked for help to fulfil my vengeance either.  
  
“Then _why_ have you seeked me out?”  
  
“I told you already. For company.”

  
“I find that hard to believe.”  
  
“The truth is not always the most probable option.”  
  
Madara just snorts, clearly unbelieving.  

****

**_TBC…_ **


	2. Chapter 2

*/*/*

 

They set a camp when the night is closing in around them. As Madara already saw his face, Kakuzu pulls his mask down to eat his ration comfortably.   
  
The other man stares at his stitches with open curiosity, and doesn’t turn his gaze away when he raises his head. The younger shinobi feels self-conscious. Since the transformation of his body those who’ve seen his appearance ended up dead. Sardonically he thinks that when Madara starts to lose interest in him, all he’ll need to do is to show the rest of his body. If the scars on his face hold his attention so, he’ll be downright fascinated by the clay masks sewn onto his back.  
  
“Do they serve a purpose?” Madara questions. Kakuzu feels irritated by it, but answers nevertheless.  
  
“Everything serves a purpose.”  
  
“You’re very down-to-earth if you think so. Don’t you do something just for the beauty of it? With no practical reason for at all?”

  
“I try to avoid,” Kakuzu smiles at that, just slightly. Impractical things, like sense of beauty he closed up deep inside him, along with his idealism and faith in people.  
  
“How boring,” Madara sighs, but he still looks amused as he rakes his fingers through his hair. The thick locks seem unwilling to part, so he gives up, leaving them ruffled. “So what you do? Fight for money, count what you earned and lock it away?”  
  
“Exactly.”

“But what money is good for, if you don’t spend it on anything you’d enjoy?”  
  
“I enjoy _earning_ it.”  
  
“Hmph. Whatever makes you tick, I guess,” he’s silent for a while, his gaze turned away from Kakuzu, into the flames of the campfire, as if he expects to find something important there. Long minutes pass by before he speaks again. “How old are you, my greedy friend?”  
  
“Twenty-two,” he sees no harm in answering, but it’s something more personal than he’s really comfortable sharing. Though he’s curious, he doesn’t ask for Madara’s age. He thinks he must be at least five years his senior, if not ten. He looks young, with his smooth, white skin with the slightest of shadows under his slanted, deep, dark eyes and with his thick, long hair. He’s out of his armour again, and his slim figure adds to the false image.   
  
“So young, yet so jaded. Well, shinobi mature quickly and die at an early age.”  
  
“Not me,” Kakuzu denies, before he could think better of it, “I plan to live long.”  
  
“Then you’ve chosen a wrong carrier,” Madara laughs. He doesn’t contradict him, as he doesn’t want to explain that he _can._ He sacrificed a lot for it, but he’s the chance to live a century or more.  
  
The conversation dies there and the black haired man soon lies down to sleep. Kakuzu props his back against the trunk of a tree. His five heartbeats slow down as he slips into light slumber.  He stays somewhat aware of his surroundings. Though it looks like Madara is not getting rid of him yet, he’s not about to take any unnecessary risk.  
  
  
*/*/*  
  
Next day Kakuzu ends up telling the story of his attack on Senju Hashirama. Though the description of the fight is hardy interesting -it couldn’t have lasted much more than five minutes, though seemed like an eternity for him at the time- Madara listens with rapt attention. He makes a few comments, names the jutsus the Hokage used, or tells him what he’d done in his stead. Kakuzu doesn’t hide the fact that since then he’s become considerably stronger, but gloss over _how_ he changed.   
  
He’s sure it doesn’t go unnoticed, but Madara seems too interested in the details he remembers about the Hokage to be bothered by it.  
  
His short tale is soon over, but the Uchiha doesn’t remind him of his threat that he either disappears from his sight of dies. He even tells Kakuzu his own first meeting with the man, when their clans clashed. The mixture of nostalgia, concept and longing in his voice is just as interesting as the description of the fight. The taller ninja wonders if the other knows how much he lets on with his emotions shining through his words. Maybe he just doesn’t care - it might be a weakness for anyone else, but he hardly has anything to fear. So he listens, nods, asks questions and Madara seems satisfied with his attention.  
  
After that they talk more. Kakuzu is not really inclined to tell stories of his past, when he was still a loyal ninja to his village, but these last few years spent as a mercenary and a head-hunter have been exciting enough to spin a few good tales.   
  
Madara on the contrary, loves to talk about Konoha. His anger is apparent in his words, aimed at his clan and the Senjus, at the inhabitants of the village who chose Hashirama over him. The betrayal of his own bloods burns him still. While Kakuzu feels he had his revenge and never again want to even think about Takigakure, Madara still longs to pay back.   
  
The Hokage - he brings him up him all the time. Usually just in passing, commenting what he’d have done differently in his stead, where Senju made a mistake in his opinion, degrading the other’s ideas, deeds and family. Kakuzu thinks that there’s more to his words than simple contempt and that makes him wonder.  
  
Still, he’s honestly more interested when Madara mentions his own jutsus. Kakuzu recently acquired a heart that now enables him to use fire techniques as well. It’d be great, to get some tips from the very master of this element. He of course doesn’t say so - he’s not about to reveal his secrets. If Madara gets bored or annoyed with him, his only chance of survival is in surprise.  
  
Despite his plan, it’s not long before he has to expose some of his abilities.   
  
When they’re attacked, Kakuzu can’t tell at first if the target is Madara or himself. Takigakure have sent a few ninja hunters after him, and he’s also became notorious in certain circles. He has a high reward on his head, he knows well - he’s regularly checking the Bingo books after all. He never saw an official bounty on the Uchiha, but if someone could defeat him, he’d surely earn a fortune and the reputation of a hero. He smirks under his mask. Hero-candidates die young. Very few, like himself survives the great, brainless acts.  
  
The three ninjas are well prepared, much more so than the last group who tried to defeat him. They close in on him and Madara backs away, with an amused smile on his face. Kakuzu prepares himself for the fight - he’s alone in this from the look of it.  
  
They are strong, but no match for him. He doesn’t even have to let his hearts out of his body.   
  
He crouches down next to the motionless corpses at his feet when the fight is over. Methodically he searches them, looking for anything valuable, be it money, or information. He thinks through the combat and assesses what Madara knows of him now. He used earth, wind and fire techniques, and showed his threads. His jacket is still on, so the secret of his hearts are probably safe. He wishes he’d know more water type ninjutsus - that would come handy against his companion, it ever comes to that...  
  
Madara catches the tip of a thread as he’s about to pull them back in under his skin. Kakuzu hasn’t been paying attention and only now realizes he stepped up so close to him. He silently berates himself - he really can’t afford to let his guard down in this man’s presence.  
  
The Uchiha twines the thin tentacle around his fingers and tugs on it. From anyone else the gesture might seem playful, but from him it puts Kakuzu on the edge. He stands up quickly, getting some feeling of security - false as he knows it to be - from his height. He eyes Madara warily as he raises the thread to inspect it thoughtfully.  
  
“So they are good for more than simple decoration on your face,” he muses. “Are they all over your body?” When he receives no answer he draws his brows together in annoyance. _“Show me,”_ he commands.  
  
Kakuzu doesn’t react at first. He tries to come to the best solution. He wonders if it was watching him fight, or if it’s the stench of death now - blood, sweat mingling with other, even less pleasant body fluids that a body no longer holds back when the heart stops beating and burned human flesh -  but Madara seems wild, deadlier than ever. He’s winded up himself - after all he’s just over a relatively taxing combat, one where he couldn’t afford to hold back. There’s blood on his hands still, the dying screams of his enemies in his ears. He’s inclined to continue to fight, his pulse still running fast, adrenaline high in his veins. He longs to raise his fist and smash in the shorter man’s face for his impudent order, leaving just a mass of broken bones in its wake.  
  
It’s the cool, analytical part of his mind which stills his hands, telling him that if he lets his killing instinct take over, it will be the last deed of his life. So he steps back, and commands his thread to retreat, pulling it out from Madara’s grip.   
  
“I said, show me,” Madara repeats. His power is once again tangible around him, setting on the back of Kakuzu’s tongue like heavy smoke, making the hair on his arms stand up.   
  
“No,” he shakes his head despite this. That’s a threshold he’s not willing to pass.  
  
“ _Kakuzu_ ,” the Uchiha drags his name out mockingly. He steps even closer, and the masked man finds it hard not to back down. But he manages to hold his ground, even when the other is so close that they are practically chest-to-chest. Madara has to tip his head back to keep looking him in the eye, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. “I thought you wanted companion, Kakuzu. Then why don’t you do as I told you?”  
  
“Companion, yes. But not a master, Madara-sama.”  
  
This time he’s prepared for the attack and notices the swing of the blade in time. He jumps back, quickly forming the hand signs for his protective earth technique. The sword catches him on the shoulder and slides down on his hardened skin, tearing his coat, but making no other damage. His opponent smirks - he’s seen this ability during Kakuzu’s fight with the three ninja hunters, so obviously not surprised by it.  
  
“I’m happy to cut you out of your clothes, if that’s what it takes. It’d be faster if you’d do as I told, but either way, I’ll get what I want.”  
  
“Why are so adamant on this?” the taller shinobi asks. A sword he can protect himself against, even if it’s wielded by the legendary Uchiha Madara, but he knows the other man has dirtier tricks up his sleeve. If only half of the stories he heard during his search are true, no one below the level of Hashirama Senju stands a chance. Kakuzu, strong as he’s become, is not on that level, will never be.   
  
“Cause I’m curious. You should feel honoured, my friend. It’s not many things that catch my interest.”  
  
He translates this in himself, coming to the conclusion that Madara simply can’t take _no_ as an answer. He’s probably used to it, invincible as he’s rumoured to be, to always get what he wants immediately. Kakuzu on the other hand doesn’t like to give anything freely, and have no desire to uncover his body at all.   
  
The steel of the blade flash up again and Madara is on him like a whirlwind. Kakuzu blocks and ducks and wonders if it’s a good idea to counterattack. What’s the point where there’ll be no turning back? When will his defiance cost him his life? It’s hard to keep a cool head and not release his power. That’s what the other man probably wants - after all, he’s still only using his taijutsu.   
  
He runs halfway up a tree and jumps down behind the Uchiha’s back with a somersault. He crosses his arms momentarily in front of him, opening the stitches and launches them, grabbing and trying to tear the sword from the other’s hands. Madara lets it go immediately, but there’s already another weapon in his hand. The scythe bears down and cuts the threads. Kakuzu hisses in anger and pain as one of his limbs falls to the ground. He pulls his other hand back quickly. He grits his teeth as Madara laughs.   
  
“So you chose this? Shall I cut you up to pieces?”  
  
“No,” he shakes his head. Dignity costs him less than his life. He doesn’t want to bow before Madara, but something like this isn’t worth dying for. A bit awkward, as he has to do it one handed, he starts to unbutton his jacket. Black eyes watch him with cruel amusement as he shrugs out of it then grabs his shirt and pulls it up and off as well.   
  
He feels self-conscious, and curses the day he had this moronic idea to find this man. He knew there'll be a risk - but he wasn’t prepared for humbling himself so. He’s never shown his new body to anyone, and is very unhappy to do so now, and for the most dangerous person possible. His mouth opens to a snarl behind his mask, but he keeps his frame as relaxed as he can as he goes and picks his mutilated hand from the ground.  
  
Threads reach out from the stump as he pushes flesh against flesh. A minute or two, and the limb is once again connected to his body, the threads under his skin twining together, mending the damage. He moves his fingers experimentally. Save for the lingering pain it’s as good as new.  
  
Madara watches with his head tilted to the side, his locks falling in front of his face. His mouth is open slightly, showing sharp white teeth in what could be called a smile, if it’d hold any joy. Like this it’s more just a sadistic grimace.  
  
“Satisfied?” Kakuzu asks him, not bothering to hide the irritation in his voice.   
  
“Not quite,” Madara’s voice is amused as he shakes his head, making the young shinobi feel as if he’s a circus freak, putting up a show. “What are those masks on your back?”  
  
“Decoration,” he barks. The Uchiha’s eyes flash meanly at him and he steps up to circle Kakuzu.  
  
“They look quite painful for decoration,” he drawls. “No wonder you weren’t lying down when sleeping. I could just tear them off for you,” three of his fingers touch Kakuzu’s back and slide to the edge of the clay tiger head. The fire mask.   
  
“Don’t bother,” he turns to face Madara so he can’t eff around with his hearts. “I’m used to them.”  
  
“Hmm,” that slender hand rises again, to scrape nails against the scar running on his shoulder down till his collarbone. His fingertips are cool and smooth, and goosebumps rise on Kakuzu’s skin in their wake. He picks at the stitches with interest, but with a cold and slightly revolted expression as a child would poke some bizarre looking bug on the ground with a stick. Kakuzu longs to break his slender wrist for it. Still he endures his inspection, because he suspects that he’ll just drag it out longer if he tries to resist.  
  
“You’re a strange man, Kakuzu, and I’m sure you haven’t revealed all your secrets yet,” Madara says at last. “Maybe I won’t get bored with you so easily as I thought.”  
  
He turns and walks away as if nothing happened. The ex-Takigakure ninja looks at his retreating back as he puts his shirt and jacket back on. He could disappear now - he’s pretty sure the Uchiha won’t look for him. He got what he came for - he found this fabled man, got to see how he’s like and even survived the experience. Why would he remain with him any longer?  
  
He guesses it’s curiosity - or it might be masochism, though he’s never been guilty of that before - as he goes after the slim figure.  
  
  
*/*/*  
  
Kakuzu stands still as if mesmerized as Madara steps up to him. He can feel his chakra swirling, all but burning his skin, thick and heavy, threatening, yet alluring. It’s drawing him in, like a magnet. He wants to reach out, grab it to claim it as his own even if he knows that’s impossible. The Uchiha’s slender figure doesn’t look fragile - in fact he seems to loom above the younger man somehow.  
  
He’s now so close that Kakuzu can feel his warm breath on his face. He touches his stomach with his long fingers, and the young shinobi realizes that he’s naked, though the black haired man is fully dressed in his armour. He shivers.  
  
“Show me your secrets,” he whispers and Kakuzu is unable to deny that he’s any left. His threads part, opening up his chest, showing all his five hearts beating rapidly in excitement. Madara laughs as he reaches inside to grab one - his original one - and tears it out.   
  
Kakuzu can’t do more than to stare at him with horrified fascination as he raises the pulsing organ to his mouth and bites into it. Blood pours down on his chin, tainting the white skin...  
  
He jolts awake suddenly, his pulse loud in his own ears. His glance falls on Madara, who’s lying in a safe distance on the ground. Kakuzu stifles a groan of frustration and lets his head fall back against the trunk of the tree. Damn it to hell.  
  
Three nights passed since their little clash and he keeps dreaming about Madara. To make it worse they’re getting increasingly bizarre with each occasion. He can’t deny his fascination with the man, but this is really over the top. He has to get a grip on himself, or this can end very ugly.    
  
He doesn’t sleep any more, just waits for the dawn. When Madara wakes he stretches gracefully as a cat and makes his customary - and vain - attempt to tidy his messy hair with his fingers. When he catches Kakuzu looking, he smirks at him and ducks his head coquettishly, making his thick locks fall in front of his eyes.  
  
Caught, the ex-Takigakure ninja returns the gaze. Heat blooms on his face, though he doesn’t have anything to be ashamed about. Madara acts as if he knows a secret of him, but there’s no secret, at least not any about him watching the shorter man. It’s the most natural thing that he’s curious - even for someone like him, the Uchiha is the strangest creature he’ll ever meet. So he reassures himself that he can’t possibly know anything that Kakuzu doesn’t want him to know - like that he have five hearts, or that he started to have these disturbing dreams about him.  
  
  
*/*/*  
  
  
He starts to get to know the other man a bit. It’s not like as if he’s having a teammate again - he doesn’t make the mistake to think they’re equals, or that they’ll ever be even close to that - but still, he’s not alone... there’s someone to talk to and listen to.  
  
Madara is usually cold, collected and has a dry, cruel wit. He’s also smart, with a contemptuous outlook on pretty much everything. This suits Kakuzu, as it fits well what he thinks of the world and humanity.   
  
Contrary to his opinion on others, the Uchiha thinks very highly of himself. The taller man is smart enough not to make any comment on this - anyhow, the other has the basis to be proud of his abilities. After all, save for one man, there’s hardly anyone who’s as powerful as him.  
  
It’s that man, Senju Hashirama who makes him change his tone. Madara is obsessed with him, there’s no other word for it. If he mentions him - and that happens surprisingly often - he’s bound to get carried away and talk about him a lot. Mostly with contempt, but Kakuzu believes he hears longing in his voice as well. He doesn’t know what to think of it. He’s never been so passionate about anyone in his life. Back in Takigakure he was expected to think with a clear head all the time. Since his transformation he makes a point of being cynical and unmoved. There’s very few things, like money, he’s willing to trust. Young as he still is, he knows all about betrayal.  
  
He tries to imagine, based Madara’s words, how his relationship with the Hokage must have been. He soon concludes that he lacks either the imagination or the emotions to picture it, so he just listens to and watches the other man, with his dark eyes ablaze, his pale face flushed, his hair a mess, as he keeps running his fingers through it in aggravation.   
  
He likes watching him like this, Kakuzu has to admit to himself. So passionate, so deadly, so... fascinating.   
  
He drags his eyes away and frowns. He doesn’t understand his own feelings towards his companion. He thinks it’s probably the power the Uchiha radiates that makes him so enchanted by him. What else could it be?  
  
Madara smirks every time he catches Kakuzu watching him. The younger shinobi refuses to be embarrassed, but still, he tries to turn his gaze away whenever he can before the other notices. It’s not because he’s ashamed, he just doesn’t need scornful glances and cruel smiles.

  
At nights when they stop to rest and Madara takes off his armour, it gets harder to keep his eyes averted. His slim figure, the white skin of his flat stomach that shows for a second when his shirt is dragged up, the way his hair is momentarily pulled out his face, just to fall back heavily again, moves something in Kakuzu that he doesn’t really have a word for.   
  
He’s angry with himself for it - despite what he claimed at their first meeting, there’s so much he could learn from Madara, be it a fire technique or something less straightforward, like information about Konoha, tips against very powerful enemies or knowledge on the famous Uchiha clan. It doesn’t make any sense, there’s nothing he can gain from it, no _practical_ reason why he shouldkeep staring at him, so he decides to stop it.  
  
Despite his resolve, he dreams about him again.

 

**_TBC…_ **


	3. Chapter 3

 

*/*/*  
  
When they see a shallow lake, clear and peaceful among the trees, Madara turns towards it. Deciding to wash himself, he strips naked and wades into the water. Though it’s a warm summer afternoon, Kakuzu refrains from doing the same.  
  
The other might have forced him to uncover his body once, but it doesn’t mean he’s comfortable doing so. The most he’s willing to do is to unbutton his jacket, but he doesn’t take it off. He doesn’t sweats since he let the forbidden technique transform his body, he doesn’t feel hot and cold as he used to.   
  
Sitting down on the bank he watches Madara as he splatters water on himself. He wishes that he’d have a book with him, to get immersed in it, as like this it’s impossible to keep his eyes away from the other man.   
  
His body is lithe, creamy white skin making a sharp contrast with his long, black hair. His back is turned towards Kakuzu, who can see a cobweb of scars on it - not like his own ones, but faded and old, the type every shinobi who survived tough battles has. They run down on his narrow hips, his slender, yet muscular thighs. When he leans forward to scoop up water in his hands, his buttocks flex temptingly.  
  
Warm creeps up to Kakuzu’s face which has nothing to do with the hot summer weather. He shifts uncomfortably as his manhood starts to stiffen in his pants. He hasn’t had this reaction since his fateful departure from his village. He’s actually believed up till now that sensual pleasures were one of the sacrifices he made for survival. He hasn’t thought his body human enough to still feel lust.  
  
He’s not happy to be proven wrong, as other men may be in his stead.  He finds it very distracting, the way all five of his hearts start to beat faster, that he can’t stop ogling Madara’s naked, wet form. He’s annoyed how his usually well organised thoughts want to run wild, how he keeps picturing himself shedding his clothing, going into the lake after the other man and...  
  
And what? He scowls. Being burned to ashes by flames that can’t be extinguished? Being ripped to shreds by one of the numerous techniques the other must have but Kakuzu doesn’t have a clue of? If attacking the Hokage few years ago was suicidal, he doesn’t know what to call his lusting after his arch-enemy.  
  
Why Madara of all people? It’s not as if he’s Kakuzu’s type. He’s never even desired someone from his own sex before - just another fact to make his body’s reaction more pathetic. He’s sitting here, watching another man - pretty much the most dangerous one alive - with a persistent hard-on. With his body turned into an inhuman, perfect weapon, shouldn’t he be above such things?  
  
Even back in Takigakure, he didn’t have much of a sexual drive. He was never handsome, even before the stitches, but his tallness, his broad shoulders, his green eyes and his reputation of being one of the strongest of the village by the time he entered his late teens had caught a few girls’ attention. He had some escapades - fumblings in the dark, stolen kisses and later a couple of quick fucks to satisfy his urges. He never thought much of the acts, or his partners. It was necessary to keep his body healthy, like eating, drinking or sleeping. What’d mattered, back then, was to win his combats, to bring glory to his village and nothing else.  
  
After the shocking and painful realization that Takigakure didn’t care at all what he did for it so far, after claiming the forbidden technique the elders so treasured and feared and letting it turn him into something that was more of a monster than a man, he thought that he won’t be affected by such trivial things as lust any more. He assumed he left it behind with the majority of his human features. Now he finds he was mistaken.   
  
He can’t help but wonder how different it would be, having sex with a man - and this man in particular - than with a woman. Mostly what he recalls of his old encounters is the urgency - to find his release, to be over with it. It certainly would be different with enthralling, fascinating Madara...  
  
He shakes his head, annoyed with himself. What is he thinking? This sudden, unwelcome desire isn’t something he should act upon. Not because the other is a man. Though such relationships were banned in Takigakure, Kakuzu doesn't care at all about the old expectations and regulations. He will ignore his urge as he wants to live long, a century if not two, and daydreaming about fucking Uchiha Madara will seriously hinder such plans.  
  
Despite how firmly he tells himself this, he still doesn’t manage to cast his gaze away when Madara turns towards him and comes out to the bank. His coal black hair clings to his body, heavy with water and Kakuzu notes how his pubic hair is the same dark colour. Unobtrusively he lets his arms slid down to his lap, to cover the bulge in his pants. He hopes Madara will keep himself busy for a few more minutes, because he’s not ready to stand up and get going in his current state.  
  
But of course when it comes to this man, he should be prepared for the worst.   
  
He keeps his face blank, grateful for his mask, when his dangerous companion comes to stand in front of him. There’s no self-consciousness in his pose, he doesn’t try to hide his nakedness at all, as he eyes the younger man with his head tilted to the side. Kakuzu thinks he’s seeing some cruel amusement in his dark eyes, but he doesn’t care to know what that is about. He wishes the other would get out of his face so he could stand up to disappear between the trees to cool down a bit. He doesn’t need a naked, dripping wet Madara flashing his bits at him.   
  
“Kakuzu, my friend. Why don’t you join? You’ll get a heatstroke, sitting here dressed up like this,” there’s mock distress in his voice, and it makes the stitched shinobi dread that he suspects something.   
  
“I don’t feel the heat,” Kakuzu grunts, trying to cut the discussion short.  
  
“Still, you need a bath. I can feel the blood of those three fools on you still. It stinks,” Madara makes a show of leaning close and sniffling him. As the taller man turns his head towards him slightly, the ends of his long, wet hair tickle his cheek, just below his eyes. Kakuzu longs to grab a handful of the black locks to drag his head even closer, to feel his warm breath on his face, to have those cruel lips press against his. He sits stock still when Madara hooks his fingers under his mask and pulls it down below his chin.   
  
“Come on,” he urges “take these off and get into the lake.”  
  
The last occasion when he was ordered to show his body taught Kakuzu that if he won’t do as told, he’ll be forced to obey by force. He can’t decide what would be worse - to wait until Madara makes him undress, or to uncover himself now, aroused as he is.   
  
“Why don’t you go ahead,” he suggests on a hoarse voice “I’ll wash and catch up with you.”  
  
“You’re being shy again!” Madara laughs unkindly and tugs on his jacket. “Does this mean that you have more secrets left? Come on, tell me - what will I find if I get you out of your pants?” He leans in even closer and all but whispers the last part in his ear, his voice dropping an octave. Kakuzu’s cock twitches with interest. _Damn this bastard to hell,_ he thinks. He’s indeed playing with him, there’s no doubt of it now. But does it mean he wants something from the younger man as well, or is he just torturing him, he can’t tell.  
  
“Nothing that’d come to you as a surprise,” he manages to keep his tone dry. He’s pretty sure now that Madara knows what’s going on. He’s rewarded with wolfish smile.  
  
“Then I really don’t see why you don’t want to take these off,” he pulls on the sleeve of his jacket none too gently, so Kakuzu quickly gets out of it, before he could do further damage. It already has a tear thanks to him that he had to sew, and he doesn’t fancy spending his money on something like new clothing if he can avoid. He takes off his shirt as well when urged to. He feels vulnerable, without his mask covering his face, half-naked and with an erection that refuses to wilt.   
  
When Madara’s cool, wet fingers touch his side to run down on his ribs to rest at the top of his waistband almost jumps. He knocks Madara’s hand away when he reaches to unlace his pants. Black eyes glare at him, obviously annoyed that he interrupted his game. He’s so close that he must be aware of Kakuzu’s state, but enjoys torturing him with feigning ignorance.  
  
He stands up and steps away from Madara. If he’s forced to do this, it will be on his own terms. He shrugs out of his shoes, trousers and underwear and walks into the lake, keeping his back turned towards the other man. When he hears a splash indicating the Uchiha followed him, he wonders if he’d just save himself a lot of trouble if he submerged to never resurface again.  
  
It’s survival instinct, something he can’t ignore, what makes him turn to face his companion. The water is just waist deep here, and clear enough not to hide his arousal from clever, mocking, dark eyes. Madara approaches him like a predator its prey, so Kakuzu sets up his chin and waits for whatever may come.  
  
“I see you don’t have stitches at all places,” the black haired man comments as stops to stand too close to him. Kakuzu finds that the urge to snap his slender, white neck sits peacefully with the urge to bend him over and fuck him.   
  
“That would be impractical,” he replies stoically as he starts to scrub his hands under the water. He wishes that his hard-on would finally deflate or that at least Madara to stop staring at it so obviously. But his body - for the first time since his transformation - refuses to obey his order and he knows the Uchiha well enough by now to be sure he enjoys his obvious discomfort.  
  
He manages to glare at the other evenly and not to react with more than a sharply drawn breath when he reaches out and puts a cool hand on his chest. He moves his fingers lightly, not in a real caress, but more like as if he’s feeling up his muscles. His expression doesn’t give anything away. His lips curve upwards slightly, but his eyelids are drooping lazily, as if bored. Kakuzu can’t tell what he’s thinking at all. Is he intrigued or is he revolted? If he makes a move, will the Uchiha welcome it or kill him for it?  
  
When that unmerciful hand slides down on his stomach to rest just above the dark brown patch of pubic hair, Kakuzu thinks _fuck living long_ and closes the space between them. He’s not gentle when he grabs Madara’s wild mane and leans down to kiss him.   
  
All his hearts are beating like mad, his pulse loud in his own ears with arousal, but also with fear he doesn’t quite manage to quench. Madara’s lips are soft against his as he pushes his tongue inside the other’s mouth while holding his head in place. When the shorter man returns the kiss, the tight ball of nerves in his guts eases somewhat. He pulls the slender body even closer, until one of those creamy white thighs wedges between his owns and his erection is pressed into the hollow above the sharp hipbone.  
  
The kiss drags on. Madara’s eyes are open to a crack as he reaches up to cup his face, fingers bending in to press painfully at the gash between the stitches. Kakuzu thinks he sees curiosity and cruel amusement in his eyes, but not desire. All is about control when it comes to Madara - the way he forces Kakuzu to react, the way he watches him, searching for signs of weakness. It’s the same when he ordered him to uncover his body. He likes to feel superior. What Kakuzu doesn’t understand is the urge to constantly prove himself. Who’d question his power?  
  
It pisses him off, the way those eyes stare at him coldly, even as his body is hot and tempting against his. Kakuzu doesn’t like to lose control - when it comes to his own body, his own life, he wants to be his own master, making his own decisions. He’s undeniably aroused by Madara’s power, the thrilling chakra he can feel swirling around the man, but it doesn’t mean he wants to be subdued by it. If there would be a way he’d claim it as his own. This whole absurd situation he found himself in is not about lusting after the other man’s body - or not simply that, at any rate - but a craving impossible to fulfil, to get some, a morsel of this amazing might.   
  
He wants to suck out his power though his mouth with the kiss. He wants to tear apart his chest and take his heart - just imagine how strong it would make him, downright invincible. His fingers run down on the other’s back, stopping just above the organ. It’s such a vulnerable spot, and Madara lets him touch it. He could break through muscles and flesh with ease here, cracking the ribs or even the spine if it’s in the way. He knows he has the physical force for it, he did it before. Using a blade to cut open someone is more practical, but tearing through flesh with bare hands is more satisfying. It was how he took the village elder’s organs. The bastards deserved the suffering and more.  
  
The Uchiha - probably - doesn’t know about this aspect of his physique. He can assume that he’s not prepared for an attack like that. Maybe he should try it - just thinking about it sends a tremor through his body, fuels his excitement further.   
  
It’s just like that first night, he suddenly realizes, when Madara pretended to be asleep, appearing to be open to attacks. Kakuzu wasn’t a fool to fall in his trap then. Has arousal clouded his mind so much to make the mistake now?  
  
He grabs Madara’s wild hair more firmly to yank his head back. This is instantly avenged, sharp fingernails press so hard into the scar on his face that they draw blood. Kakuzu snarls as he twists the locks around his fist and pulls on them further, until Madara’s neck is bowed back in an arch.  Bottomless dark eyes blink furiously at his boldness. That look sends adrenaline rushing through his veins, preparing him for a fight. Combined with his arousal it makes him light-headed.  
  
But is seems Madara is not yet finished with his game. Maybe he wants to push him until finally Kakuzu gives in. He’s not sure if he can resist - but won’t be surprised if when his resolve brakes completely the other will refuse him. That’d just fit in nicely with everything he knows about this man.   
  
Madara's hand - the one not clawing at his face - slides down on his body waking a pleasant shiver where it touches his skin. Low enough, his long fingers wrap around Kakuzu’s length without hesitation. His palm caresses the tender skin lightly, teasing, not really creating friction. He pushes his groin closer to Kakuzu’s thigh so the younger man can feel him hard as well.   
  
He can’t help but moan at that slightly - does it mean Madara desires him as well? He’d like to think so, though probably he’s just enjoying his power over him. Or maybe he just overcomplicates things - analysing and doubting is in his nature. It’s hard to do so, but he tries just to feel and act upon that - he won’t be able to understand Madara no matter how he tries.  
  
His grip leaves the untameable black hair and slides to the slender, white neck of the other man. Closing his fingers and _snap,_ that would all it take... but he just caresses it, pushing his thumb against the slight bump of the Adam's apple, down on the shoulder, the sharp collar bone, feeling, studying the other’s body almost with detachment. He’s never been intimate with another man like this before - Madara’s hard, sinewy and battle worn body is so different as of a woman’s, but not unpleasing. Yes, he must admit to himself that other than the Uchiha’s power his look intrigues him as well.  
  
He runs his palm down on the slight curve of the spine, feeling its bumps and the rough texture of the old, faded scars that crisscross it. Madara’s grip is now firmer on his hardness, moving from root to tip and back. Kakuzu starts to thrust his hip ever so slightly, not able to help himself. His own hand goes to Madara’s cock to imitate to motion. The Uchiha hisses his appreciation and pushes his forehead against Kakuzu’s collar bone, his unruly, wet hair tickling the taller man’s chin and face.  
  
It’s such a simple touch, and not even a very comfortable position, yet the ex-Takigakure ninja is more excited than he ever was in his life. He’s vulnerable to attacks, he let his guard down, yet he doesn’t mind at all.   
  
Soon he’s close to the edge. Madara’s palm is warm, slick with water and fluids from Kakuzu and calloused from handling a weapon in all his life. Kakuzu closes his eyes, one of his own hand trying to return the pleasure for the other man, the other holding him close with a light touch on the small of his back.   
  
Just a few more strokes and he’ll be there...but at that point Madara lets go of his erection and pulls back. He groans in frustration, earning a dark chuckle from the older shinobi.  
  
“If you want more Kakuzu, you’ll have to work for it.”   
  
“What,” Kakuzu barks, anger rising in him “do you want?”  
  
Madara contemplates this with his head tilted to the side. He obviously enjoys his discomfort - the younger shinobi longs to smash that infuriating, wicked smile from his face. The Uchiha looks him up, dark eyes lingering on his form, his scars and stitches, his hard cock so openly that Kakuzu has to resist the ridiculous urge to cover himself. Madara’s grabs his own erection and strokes it lazily.   
  
“Get on your knees and suck me,” he orders at last.   
  
_In your dreams,_ Kakuzu thinks, but keeps his mouth shut. He was right - it’s just a power play for the Uchiha, but he doesn’t want to participate in a game where he won’t stand the slightest chance to win. He’s certainly not about to get on his knees for anyone, not even this man.   
  
“I don’t want _more_ that much, Madara-sama,” he shakes his head and turns to go out to the bank. When he hears a splash he ducks under the surface instinctively, so the flames of the Uchiha’s technique doesn’t cause him any harm, although they warm the water around him unpleasantly. As he turns under the water he can see that the other is now standing on the top of the waves. Without a thought he extends his threads, wraps them around the slender ankles and _pulls._ He either manages to catch the bastard by surprise - which he doubts - or more probably he lets him, as he can drag the black haired man down to him.   
  
When he’s close enough, he grabs his neck and kisses him forcefully. Madara’s nails dig in so hard at his back that few of his stitches snap, that he must be drawing blood. Still, no real retaliation comes, so probably he approves of the younger man’s action. Kakuzu keeps them down below the surface, mouths locked together, bodies entwined until his lungs start to burn with the lack of oxygen.    
  
“How dare you defy me?” Madara gasps when they can draw breath again, but his legs are locked around Kakuzu’s waist, and lets himself be lifted as the younger shinobi stands up. He’s pulling his hair so hard that it’s a wonder he doesn’t tear a handful of it out. He lets the stitched ninja support all his weight, clinging to his neck, thighs pressing against his sides like vice.  
  
“If you want me to blow you, first you’ll have to give me what I want,” Kakuzu sounds breathless with arousal and astonishment at his own boldness. His body seems to act on its own as he thrusts his hips, his cock sliding against the cleft of the other’s firm ass.   
  
“You piece of shit - I’ll make you regret this,” Madara snarls at him, but his body tells a different tale as he pushes back against his length. Kakuzu is now angry and horny enough to ignore the threat, the risk of losing his life. His fingers slide down on the slender man’s spine, from the top vertebras to below his tailbone, until they wedge between the cheeks of his ass. He’s not stopped even when they rest against the puckered hole. He pushes two of his digits in without a second thought, like he would check with women whether they are ready for him. Madara hisses, bites the side of his face savagely, his nails bending in and tearing apart a seam on his shoulder. He grabs the threads that squirm out, pulling on them so forcefully as if wanting to uproot them from his body, but he also pushes down, impaling himself on Kakuzu’s now vacillating fingers completely.  
  
His channel is tight, hot but also dry. Surely he’s hurting, and though he doesn’t really seem to mind, Kakuzu suddenly wishes he’d have some experience with another man. While Madara obviously knows what he wants, he’s not at all sure how this will work. But if he shows hesitancy here, he probably won’t leave this lake alive.   
  
He moves his fingers experimentally, and Madara growls in what sounds like more pain than pleasure. But even as he claws on his back further and bites the sensitive skin where neck meets shoulder, he’s not stopping him, rather moves back against his hand. Having his slender, yet hard, muscular and very much masculine form wrapped around him arouses the young missing ninja like nothing else has in his life before. The sounds he makes, the smell of him, his powerful chakra that he can actually taste as he licks and bites his neck...It’s heavy, bitter, intoxicating, fuelling him to act much more recklessly than he would normally. Madara makes him drunk, uncaring of his own fate.  
  
Not pulling his fingers out of his body, Kakuzu carries him where the water is shallow enough to lay him on his back and kneels between the spread thighs. He watches, fascinated, how Madara’s battle-toned, springy form flexes and arches under his touch, how his tight hole start to loosen as he thrusts his fingers in, bending, scissoring them.   
  
“That’s enough, don’t tease me,” his black haired companion sounds a bit breathless and that excites him as much as the sight of him lying underneath, wild locks spread out in the water, legs opened wide, looking willing and seductive. Kakuzu doesn’t have to be told twice as he grabs the base of his prick to guide it to his opening.  
  
He sinks into Madara slowly, inch by inch, while all he wants to do is to slam in to the root. The hold, the heat is incredible, unlike anything he felt before. Here’s this man, the most dreaded ninja alive, and he’s using his body like he was a common whore, a cheap woman he got for a quick fuck... He grabs the silky thighs and pushes them backwards until the other is all but folded into two. He raises his glance to meet bottomless eyes staring at him. The cold, dark glare reminds him that he’s only doing this because the other lets him - that quite probably he’s manipulated into acting like this. His mouth pulls up into a dry smirk even as he starts to move. It doesn’t matter how or why - he’s fucking Uchiha Madara. If this act will in the end cost him his life – damn it to hell, it’s still worth it.  
  
As he hikes the bony hips even higher up to push into the other’s body more deeply, he hits some spot that makes the older man lose his cool posture. He gasps, hands grasping Kakuzu’s upper arms and grip them so hard that probably he’s leaving bruises.

In no time Kakuzu is pounding into him hard and fast, watching the signs of pained pleasure on the sharp-chinned face that he can’t mask. His eyelids are halfway closed over soulless black eyes, but now and then they fly open, usually unseeing, staring upwards, once or twice glaring at him angrily when his motion doesn’t win approval.   
  
Both of them are silent, Madara gasping softly when what Kakuzu’s doing causes him pleasure and hissing when it’s painful, the younger man grunting with effort as he tries to make this last as long as possible. Still, all too soon he feels his climax approaching, so he speeds up, eyes locked with Madara’s unfathomable dark glance. All it takes is a dry quirk of lips from the man lying underneath him, the arch of his back, his heels scraping down on Kakuzu’s back, pulling him even closer and he comes, moaning _Madara,_ whole body shuddering as he spills his seed inside the slender body. He’s never even imagined that sex could be so _pleasurable,_ that he would wish the moment of release to last forever.   
  
His arms are actually trembling when he lowers the other’s thighs. His cock slips free with an obscene wet pop. Would he look, he could see blood on it probably. When he tries to roll off from Madara, he grabs his hair and pulls him down for a harsh kiss. His long fingers rake through his locks in a rough caress before he firmly pushes Kakuzu’s head downwards.  
  
“And now suck me off,” he says offhandedly. The taller shinobi doesn’t even try to back out - he knows how to hold his side of a deal. He finds it strange, having another man’s erection in his mouth, but not actually unpleasant. He tries to do what he’d enjoy in his stead, fingers wrapping around the base, tongue going to the slit, to the thick vein running on the underside of the length.   
  
“Deeper,” Madara gasps. When he doesn’t immediately obey -he actually doesn’t see how he could go deeper than this- he grabs the back of his head and forces his mouth down until his nose touches the black curls of pubic hair. Kakuzu sputters, chokes and shoves his hand angrily away so he can sit back on his heels to draw breath. His cruel companion has the audacity to actually chuckle.  
  
“Don’t tell me you can’t open your mouth wider than that,” Madara smirks at him. Sitting up he touches the stitches on his cheek, running light fingertips on them in a mock caress.   
  
“Bastard,” Kakuzu mutters but bends back over his groin as he lies back again, propped up on his elbows. That deceptively slender hand is in his hair again, guiding, but not actually forcing him this time. He soon puts up a rhythm and actually starts to find blowing Madara exciting. It’s how he moves his hips slightly, the soft sounds he makes, but especially the way those dark eyes look at him, with actual lust and want this time… With a hard shove upwards and a muffled _fuck_ he soon comes. Kakuzu, who hasn’t been expecting it yet, is kept in place with a firm hold as he shoots into his mouth.  
  
He glares at the Uchiha when he’s allowed to pull back to draw breath and spit out semen, but he can’t really put up real irritation behind it. Honestly, it was worth all a thousand times.   
  
“Not bad, for a first timer,” Madara comments with a condescending smirk. Kakuzu just raises an eyebrow as he wades out to the bank on slightly unsteady feet.  
  
“Will be better next time,” he offers over his shoulder.  
  
He already has his clothes on when Madara steps up behind him. His closeness still sends warnings of danger through his system, but he forces himself to remain outwardly relaxed, even when a cool hand touches his shoulder softly.   
  
“What makes you think there’ll be a next time?” the Uchiha whispers. As an answer Kakuzu turns and kisses him. Madara chuckles into his mouth and bites down on his lips. “You’re becoming overconfident, my friend. Be careful or that’ll be your downfall.”  
  
The younger shinobi waits for him to get dressed and they start on the road again.

 

**_TBC…_ **


	4. Chapter 4

*/*/*  
  
They repeat what happened by the lake not just once, but a lot more time afterwards and indeed, Kakuzu gets more experienced with each occasion. The strange thing is that although he’s the one who fucks Madara every night when they set a camp, it doesn’t change the dynamics between them at all. Even when he’s under him, gasping and moaning, when Kakuzu holds him down and all but forces himself into his body, Madara remains in control.  He just simply likes it rough, or he enjoys how this makes the younger man lose his composure. He obviously loves to push his buttons and watch what reactions he can provoke, to create the illusion that Kakuzu can be dominating him, than shatter it with a careless flick of the wrist. Still, with this new development the ex-Takigakure ninja is happy to do as he’s told - especially if it’s along the lines of _harder_ or _more._ His dreams has definitely improved lately and got way more pleasant.  
  
He smirks, glad that his mask is covering his face as he glances at his companion. Madara is deep into one of his usual monologue, raging against Konoha and its leader. He’s ever so passionate about his rival, the way he never really is during sex. Kakuzu doesn’t mind - he might not survive the passion of this man, would it be directed at him, the way he gets so agitated, furious in an almost insane degree when he mentions Senju Hashirama.  
  
He prefers cool, collected, wicked Madara, with his dry wit and contempt for almost everything. So when he’s like this he just listens, nodding an _hmm_ -ing at the appropriate places. He understands duty, betrayal, bitterness, revenge - but what the Uchiha feels for the Hokage is something that’s beyond his comprehension.    
  
He asks about it one night, though he suspects that it’s a mistake before he finishes the sentence. He’s right - Madara gets furious and offended, denying that he feels anything but contempt for his enemy. Kakuzu just shrugs - if he’s happier with self-denial, that’s all the same for him. It probably shows what he thinks, because he’s attacked for it - not with a serious blow, which would leave him dead, but a kick that he actually manages to block. It somehow leads to rough and dirty sex, with Madara on all fours, and Kakuzu pounding him from behind, pulling on his hair and leaving bruises on his slender hips as he grips them, so it’s all for the best.   
  
Still, this side of his companion’s personality makes him wonder. It’s his only weakness as far as he can see and that’s something worth dwelling on. He recalls the Hokage’s face from three years ago. Their fight - if it can be called that at all - was so short, he can barely remember anything else than astonishment over his power that enabled him to brush aside Kakuzu’s attacks like they were nothing. He’s the only one whose power equals, or possibly even surpasses Madara’s. That’s why he’s so infuriated – downright maniac when it comes to him.   
  
If there’s more to it, he can’t and doesn’t want to tell. He doesn’t care to know what else the Uchiha might feel, he’s not with him for that. Bolder as he has become since they started having sex, he’s still not suicidal to ask whether he’s in love with the Senju...  Anyway, even if he is - it’s certainly not Kakuzu’s business.   
  
*/*/*  
  
For Kakuzu sex used to be a necessity, an urge more easy to satisfy than to ignore. Now he likes to think it’s business - something that both he and his companion want, so they fulfil it together. He suspects there might be more to it from his own part, but refuses to ponder over it. It would do nothing good to allow himself to have _feelings_ for the other man. He’s dangerous as he is, and way too intimate with Kakuzu, turning his organised life, his structured mind upside down. It’s a short term thing, that was never a question, so he doesn’t allow himself to crave for _more_ , for something he can never get. So very firmly he tells himself that he won’t dream of anything else than a few week’s company and a handful of - increasingly satisfying - fucks. Even that’s more than he has originally aimed for, so he can’t complain.  
  
For Madara sex is amusement. He uses it to get rid of his lust or frustration but also to manipulate Kakuzu, to watch his reactions when he can’t resist temptation - and he never can when it’s about this fiend with his dark eyes that can turn red with the Sharingan in an instant, who always have a mocking smirk lurking in the corner of his thin lips, with his ridiculous mass of hair, behind what he likes to hide, obscuring his expression from the other man, leaving him in doubt all the time what goes on in his mind.

He also uses their intimacy to pry information Kakuzu doesn’t care to share out of him. Like the time he actually lays his head on his chest when both of them are sated, and the younger man even hugs him close, unthinking, just doing what feels comfortable. Though he feels peaceful and satisfied with their position, it only takes the Uchiha a few minutes and his caressing hand becomes deadly with the chakra concentrated into his palm, resting above a gash, ready to cut the stitches holding it closed.  
  
“So are you finally going to tell me about all these hearts I can hear beating in your chest, or do I need to cut you open and see for myself?” That cruel little smile is on his lips again, the type that fuels both Kakuzu’s fury and lust.  
  
“There’s nothing to tell now, is there – you found it out yourself,” he manages to reply evenly, not even blinking. Showing weakness equals death, he knows that now about the other man.   
  
“So what happens if you lose one?”

“I get it replaced,” he narrows his eyes, ready to defend himself at the first sign of attack. He wishes Madara would get up - it’s harder to be on his guard when he’s lying on his back with his companion resting his weight on him, the ends of his messy hair tickling his neck.  
  
“Hmm...” Madara looks undecided whether to rip him open or leave him alone, so he sits up, trying to brush the other off. But of course it’s not as easy like that. He remains sitting in his lap, legs pressing against the outer sides of his thighs, fingertips still buzzing with the concentrated chakra as he runs them over his stitches. The younger shinobi finds it annoying, but as always, the feel, the _taste_ of the other’s powers excites him. Just a few minutes ago he’s been fucking Madara and he took it, moaning and demanding more and now he’s in control, having Kakuzu at his non-existent mercy as if that never happened. He wishes he could grab his slender neck and wriggle it until he chokes, than take hold of his chakra somehow and pull it out of him, to claim it as his own. As that’s impossible, he just grasps his wrist and pulls it away so he can’t mess with his hearts so easily.   
  
“So secretive always,” the Uchiha smirks, “but you know I’ll get what I want in the end, so it’s stupid to resist.”  
  
“There’s a difference between getting me undressed and opening my chest,” he grumbles.   
  
“Is there, when you can do it easily?” he pulls his hand from Kakuzu’s hold and slides his palm down on the long gash below his left collarbone. The stitches snap under his touch and the younger ninja resigns himself to his fate. Indeed, it’s just not worth saying no to him...  
  
He endures how Madara weaves his fingers through the threads that wriggle out from under the seam, though he finds it too intimate - more than mock caresses, more than sex even - but when he tries to reach _inside,_ he instinctively shoves him away. He can see from the mean glint that appears in those dark eyes that it was a mistake.  
  
Next instant he’s on his back again, Madara’s arm pinning him down by the neck, his free hand going to the steam again, forcing prying fingers through. His hearts are beating like mad, so Kakuzu calms himself down, slowing his pulse. He doesn’t want to give the bastard the satisfaction to know he’s afraid, even when he actually touches his topmost spare heart.  
  
“Fascinating,” the black haired man mutters as if he’s witnessing a new ninjutsu - one of the showy types, which are not really powerful, but interesting to watch.  
  
“As always, I’m happy to provide you amusement, Madara-sama,” Kakuzu says dryly, satisfied that his voice doesn’t waver. Madara grins at him as he pulls his hand away and pats his cheek with bloody fingers.  
  
“Don’t pout, my friend,” he leans down and kisses him lightly “it doesn’t suit you at all.”  
  
They pretend nothing out of the ordinary happened afterwards - and for the Uchiha it’s probably even true. After all, he’s obviously used to treating people this way, but it makes Kakuzu realize it’s time that they part. Madara is bewitching company and the sex made the time spent together even better, but it’s always a gamble. He can’t know when it will amuse the other to have him lying bleeding to death at his feet, to actually squeeze his hearts until they burst or to come up with an even worse fate for him.   
  
  
*/*/*  
  
“How is it that you want to die, Kakuzu?”  
  
The ex-Takigakure shinobi casts a sideway glance at his companion hearing that question, but it doesn’t seem to be meant as a threat. Madara is staring into the flames of the campfire, face serious and deep in thought.   
  
“I don’t plan to die at all, not anytime soon at least,” he replies with a shrug. Black eyes flash at him, annoyed.  
  
“So you’ve said before.  But how can that satisfy you? Live and die so they’ll remember you, that’s what I say. Make them fear you while alive and speak of with reverence when passed away.”  
  
“For me it’s enough satisfaction knowing that I’ll survive anyone who wronged me.”  
  
Madara just snorts, turning back to stare into the flames again. For a few long minutes both of them are silent. Kakuzu doesn’t even know what makes him speak again.  
  
“I think you don’t need to prove yourself any more... everyone knows you, fears you already, don’t they? Or do you think that _he_ will appreciate you more if...” he quickly shuts his mouth when Madara springs to his feet in storming anger. Of all the stupid things to say...  
  
He expects an attack, but it doesn’t come. The Uchiha just stares at him with fury turning to contempt.  
  
“With your aim so low, it’s no wonder you can’t comprehend this,” he spits at last. For the first time since they met, he seems...lost. Kakuzu has the ridiculous urge to offer him comfort, but he can imagine what a welcome that would receive. So he just waits until he sits down again and goes back to his brooding.   
  
  
*/*/*  
  
“This is the border of Land of Fire,” Kakuzu points out.  
  
“Indeed it is,” Madara doesn’t even slow his steps.  
  
The stitched man sighs. Were they heading this way all the time - with detours and stops - or was the decision made on a whim, he can’t tell. He’s not happy with this turn of event but isn’t really surprised.  
  
“So are you going back to Konoha?” the Uchiha stops when hearing his question and looks back over his shoulder.  
  
“I notice it’s suddenly _I,_ not _we,_ Kakuzu _._ ”  
  
“I told you already - I plan to live long.”  
  
“Then go, run like a coward,” he hisses. There’s hurt in his voice, but probably he’s just trying to manipulate him again.  
  
“Madara-sama,” he represses a sigh, “unlike you, I’ve no intention fighting the Hokage ever again. I’ve no unfinished business with him.” _Nor do I wish to see him again, like you do,_ he doesn’t say.  
  
“But if I paid you, you’d join my fight.” It’s not even a question, but Kakuzu nods anyway.   
  
“I’m a mercenary as you know.”  
  
“It doesn’t matter anyway - it’s my own business only.”  
  
It is - would Kakuzu offer to accompany him, he’d surely refuse. It makes sense now, his changing mood of the last few days. The younger man keeps glancing at him, burning with questions, things he still longs to know, information he’s curious about, but doesn’t asks him. He has never understood the Uchiha, so what’s the point of trying to understand him now, when they are about to part?  
  
Kakuzu stays with him for a day more. It’s hard to say whether Madara prepares himself for winning or dying. Maybe both. Despite what he said before, he’s tempted to remain by his side and help. But in the clash of the two strongest shinobi alive, what difference would his presence make? He respects the other’s might, likes his dry wit and despite the constant threat he actually enjoyed his companion. He’ll miss the conversations and the sex as well of course - but honestly - they don’t matter as much that he’d be willing to die for them.  
  
It’s all for the best, he tells himself, that they part. It’s been an interesting few weeks - a time he’ll never forget - but he won’t live long if he stays with someone like the Uchiha.  
  
So he goes as he came - silently and without much fuss. Wishing good luck would be unfitting somehow and a goodbye kiss even more, so he simply stands up, bows his head briskly, turns his back and walks away.  
  
He half expects Madara to call after him, or rather that he’ll attack him, but neither   
happens.   
  
  
*/*/*  
  
Kakuzu goes back to do what he’s a master in - fighting for money, offering his services where the best offer is made. If he thinks about Uchiha Madara - which he sometimes does, even decades later - he just has to remind himself the fate he’d met to be reassured he made the right decision.  
  
He was an exceptional man, and he’s proud to have known him, travelled with him and taken him as a lover, even if only for a short time. He never tells about it to anyone - he’s not someone to brag to others or to reminiscent of the days that passed away - but he keeps the memory close.   
  
There’s so much he never asked the man or told of himself. He does wonder, on lonely nights, what he meant for the other. A short time amusement probably, before his grand finale. He’s curious what could have happened if he stayed or helped, but doesn’t make the mistake to dwell on what if-s.   
  
He is, after all and above all, a practical man. To nourish a crush that doesn’t make any sense is not like him. If he still dreams about deep, dark eyes turning red, or blood and sex and attraction to all-consuming power - well that’s beyond his control, so nothing he should spare a second thought for.

 

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Don’t forget to leave me a note if you enjoyed the story. Constructive criticisms are also welcome.


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